A favor for who?
by Small Bombs
Summary: Raiden does a favor to Courtney, yet it only ends up as a favor for Sam. PWP, College AU, Samuraiden.


"A favor."

"Yeah. A favor."

Raiden hadn't turned around to face Sam properly even after five long minutes of semi-amiable conversation, instead facing a wall nearby, blue eyes scanning the sketches and memos on it but paying little attention to their content. He felt vulnerable, like prey running away in a panic, knowing it was being hunted but unable to tell by what or from where.

He knew, though. He knew exactly who, what, where, why—And he could defend himself just fine from his 'predator', too. He felt himself heavy with apprehension nevertheless, maybe because he was somewhere completely unfamiliar to him, maybe because there was little place to hide in that stuffy dressing room chock-full of dusty wigs, torn costumes, and furniture made of spare wood and metal. Maybe because the theater was completely empty except for them.

Or maybe it had to do with the fact that he was wearing a dress so tight and thin it left absolutely nothing to the imagination, making him feel more naked than if he were wearing nothing at all.

"A favor." Sam repeated, voice rumbling low. "A favor to me?" He ventured with a smile, and the blonde scoffed, shooting him an exasperated look over his shoulder.

"Keep dreaming."

"Oh, I don't have to. I have a dream right in front of me."

"Please, Rodrigues. Spare me your shitty pick-up lines, we're already sleeping together."

The man laughed, eyes still glued on the blonde's figure as if trying to commit the image to memory. He almost said 'take a picture, it lasts longer', but Sam _was_ capable of taking his words seriously, and Raiden was still far too young to go to jail for murder. So he simply put up and tried his best to pretend he didn't know Sam's eyes were stuck on his ass.

"So, a favor for… what was that lady's name, again? The cute one, with the bun."

"Courtney, yeah. She's in charge of the drama club's costumes, and she asked me to model this one dress while she modifies it. None of her friends are as tall as the girl starring in the play, and she's on a trip 'til next week."

"Ah. I see, I see." A pause. "And the heels?"

Of course that had to be a question, too.

"… She's taller than me." Sam whistled, and Raiden made a sound of agreement—He wasn't short by any means, so finding a girl _taller_than him was a feat. "Yeah… She's about your size, actually."

"Oh." He rose his eyebrows, picking up the fiery red, glittery fabric of the dress gingerly. Then, a cheeky grin. "I wonder if I would make a better model then."

"Yeah, right. You'd just stretch and ruin the dress with your fat legs."

"I prefer to call them _thick_." His smirk was still in place, though, as he took no offense at his words. "But I suppose that _is_ true. Pity."

At the mention of legs, Sam's gaze went to Raiden's, sliding down to his feet, making a sound of appreciation at the purple shoes. That was another reason why he felt so vulnerable: Walking on heels had been much easier than he had expected (a little _too easy_, even,) but he was still far from mastering them. If Sam wanted to pounce on him he'd have no chance at running away, probably stumbling down to his feet after one or two steps tops. And then—

—He decided against following that line of thought, feeling his ears warm up a little.

A finger tracing down the curve of his back jolted Raiden back into a reality that wasn't turning out to be too different from his thoughts. Alarms going off in his head, he slapped his wrist and shot a nervous glance at the door

"Hey, hands off!"

Sam whined low, looking at him like a scolded pup.

"Don't be cruel now, Jack. You can't just wear such a thing and expect me to do nothing about it."

"I'm not wearing it for _you_—You weren't even supposed to find out about this!"

"Hm. I should thank Mistral for the information later."

He reached for Raiden again, more determined this time, pressing his whole palm to his hip, then traveling lower to cup his ass. It slowly dove lower to follow the curve of his legs, and Jack reflexively kicked back only to have his foot caught by Sam's fast hands.

"Naughty, naughty. These could kill a man, you know."

"Sam, I'm warning you—" He sucked in a breath through gritted teeth when the Brazilian pressed his lips to his lower back. "Courtney's coming back any second now—"

"Hmm, don't worry. I'll be fast."

He took a hold of his hips then, pressing his entire body to Raiden's naked back, placing his chin on his shoulder. They were the same height thanks to the shoes, so Sam didn't have to lean down to whisper provoking words in his ear:

"That is how we always are, right? Fast and forceful. _That is how you like it__._"

"Sam." He said that without knowing if it was a warning, a question, an affirmation. His thoughts dissolved together into a shapeless bundle of words when he felt his erection dig into his ass, and he pushed backwards reflexively. Sam's breath hitched. "You'll… You'll ruin the dress."

"Hmm…"

"The dress—" He repeated, throat constricting around the rest of that sentence and the blonde swallowed thickly. "Sam."

"But it looks good on you."

"If something happens to it Courtney's gonna _neuter you_."

Sam made a displeased sound then, and paused as if considering his options.

A smile spread across Raiden' lips when he heard him clicking his tongue a couple of seconds later.

"No dress then."

Jack laughed breathlessly and within a few seconds the dress was a puddle of fabric around his feet. He turned around, or was turned, rather, Sam's hands sliding from his shoulders to his neck to give his face an appraising look. It was odd, not having to look up to find his brown eyes when he kissed him, mouth wide open and ready to receive him even before the other opened his.

Their kisses were never gentle. Teeth clashed with urgency, faster, faster, rougher, Raiden's fingers in his hair, pulling with enough strength to make Sam groan—He was in pain, surely, but looked delighted regardless, and in some sort of revenge he roughly threw the blonde on the only table nearby that looked sturdy enough to take them both and not made by desperate art students on a small budget.

"Wait—The shoes…"

Sam took one of his feet in his hand and gave it a long, appraising look before shaking his head.

"Let's leave these on. They, eh, make an interesting look."

Raiden tsked and looked away with a frown, knowing his cheeks were already matching the flashy red of the dress.

"Suit yourself, you freak."

It didn't really surprise him when Sam pulled a bottle of lube from his jeans' back pocket—He knew from the beginning that the bastard hadn't come only to poke fun at him and then leave. That would imply he was a somewhat _decent person_.

"You don't need preparation, no?" He asked as he switched the bottle from one hand to the other playfully. "We've done this so… _often_ lately, after all."

"… Shut up."

He only laughed arrogantly and opened the bottle with a pop that made the blonde tense up in anticipation. Coating his cock with the stuff after freeing it from his underwear with a satisfied sigh, Sam licked his lips as if he were about to have a meal. He paused and gave Raiden a half-lidded gaze, opening his lips slowly, carefully, his voice almost a purr and slathered in his blunt, thick accent as he whispered:

"Spread yourself for me."

Raiden felt his spine turn into jelly.

Obediently, he reached for his ass and spread his cheeks, opening his legs wider to offer a better view. He had his tactics, too: If Sam was going to try and take control through his ears, then he would fight back through sight. And it worked like a charm; he groaned, eyes running up and down his body and sending a shiver of shameless pride up Raiden's spine.

"Eyes up here, jackass."

That was enough to pull him out of his trance, and when he looked back up at Jack's blue eyes, he mirrored the grin on his face.

"Oh, don't you worry, gatinho. I _always_ make sure to watch your face when I fuck you."

Fast and hard like he had promised, he took a hold of the blonde's legs to use as leverage and thrust in with no more preamble or preparation, forcing his entire length inside him, pushing against walls that resisted out of reflex at his intrusion. He didn't give him a second to recover before pulling out, then thrusting again, the table creaking loudly under their weight. Raiden's head lolled to the side, his back arching, one hand grabbing the edge of the table to keep himself steady against Sam's ramming and another one crawling to his own erection, pumping fast and irregular while his body moved of his own accord against Sam's.

Usually, they'd stick to each other as close as possible no matter the position—Both enjoyed feeling the other's movements even if sometimes it made things more difficult. This time, however, Sam had something to look at, and though Raiden missed the feeling of a weight crushing him down, the rise and fall of the other's chest, his musk and his breath on his lips, he instead found himself enjoying the experience of being watched, of watching being watched. The entire time Sam kept his eyes fixed on Raiden below him, watching his feet jerk up and down to the rythm of his thrusts, the way his eyes closed lazily, then opened to give him a defying look, daring him to go _harder, deeper_, the tip of his tongue sliding out of his smile, his borrow furrowing when he hit exactly the right spot.

Beautiful.

Maybe it was the sight, maybe he had a thing for heels, but Sam found himself holding back his climax for the first time, muscles tightening as he worked Raiden as hard as he could, rolling his hips, buried to the hilt. A jolt of satisfaction ran through him when the blonde replied with a hoarse moan, body jerking away, but he kept him in place with a firm grip and insisted, making his long, shapely legs lock on his hips with an iron grip to let him in deeper. Raiden sounded almost pained at moments, but experience taught him better and he didn't slow down, didn't give him a moment to try and take a hold of his sanity.

"Sam—Fuck, Sam, _Sam_…"

"C'mon, pretty." He growled, face tense as he held back the urge to come with every thrust. "I know you're at your limit—"

His hand, big and dark against Raiden's, covered the base of his cock and pumped along with his.

"_Come_."

And he did, mouth open in a cry that came late and only when he managed to force air back into his lungs, body still shaking when Sam finished himself off on his chest, groaning low and deep, watching Raiden look at him with a lazy, spent expression and a small smile on his face.

"… You look like you enjoyed yourself, lovely."

"Hmm." His eyes fluttered close to Sam's hands caressing his thighs. "How about instead of stroking your ego you help me clean up."

"Hm. No. Too tired. Clean later."

He opened his arms wide to try and embrace him, only to get a hand flat on his face and a couple of blue eyes glaring at him, the peacefulness of the afterglow completely gone from Jack's face.

"What? No. I told you, Courtney's coming back soon—_Sam_."

There was his temper. The Brazilian harrumphed, defeated: Blondie was simply unmanageable once he returned to his serious, responsible persona. Knowing better than to defy him, he looked around for a tissue with no success, so he simply took the closest piece of fabric and handed it to him.

"Here."

A raised eyebrow.

"… That's the dress, Sam. I took it off exactly to _avoid_ _that_ remember?"

"Oh. Right." A long yawn only made Raiden's eyebrow rise higher. "Help me. I'm far too tired for this."

"Someone's getting old."

Sam simply chuckled and watched the other stand up and wobble his way to some leftover fabric lying on a chair nearby, cleaning himself up and returning to struggle with Sam's hands clumsily trying to help him put the dress back on with little success.

"It is a pity. I wanted you to keep it on. During, I mean." He looked somewhat sullen and Raiden almost snickered: Watching a big guy like Sam pout was always a sight to behold.

"Get your own, then. We can't use other people's clothes without their permission for stuff like this."

"Oh?"

He blinked, eyes suddenly bright, and Raiden gave him a confused look. "What?"

"Does that mean that if I were to get you one, you would wear it?"

"Uh." He looked away, cheeks warming up again. "Well—"

"SAM."

A familiar noise along that voice made both men turn to find Courtney, wide-eyed, bun standing round, glorious and tight as ever, and shoes covered in red tea. For once, the mess mattered little to her, though, stepping on the pieces of her broken cup as she walked to Sam like a small, unstoppable tank, and he rose his hands up like she was pointing her equally small machinegun at him.

"I knew it! I knew I shouldn't have left Raiden alone, I _knew_ you'd come harrass him! Ugh!" She tried shoving him out of the way, but wasn't even strong enough to sway him.

"Now, garotinha, settle down—" He was trying his hardest not to laugh and provoke her wrath further, but he only got her to push him one more time before he willingly moved out of the way with a sigh. She stomped her way to Raiden then, taking a hold of his shoulders while looking up and down his body.

Then, she looked straight into his eyes.

"Is the dress okay!?"

He couldn't help but bark out a short laugh.

"I'm fine, Courtney, thank you for asking."

"Oh, don't give me that. You're perfectly capable of defending yourself. This thing, on the other hand…" She checked the seams carefully with her band-aid covered fingers. "I swear, Samuel, if you did _anything_ to this dress…"

"Courtney. Courtney, calm down." As amusing as watching Sam being hassled by someone half his size was, they'd be there the rest of the afternoon if he didn't come to his rescue. "The dress is fine. He didn't do anything… I mean, he didn't do anything _to it_." He clarified, clearing out his throat.

"You better have not." She pointed one finger accusatorily at his face, and he took a hold of her hand, grin slimy with fake politeness.

"Calm down, my lady. I did nothing to your precious dress, you have my word."

"'My lady'? Oh, give me a break." Her face softened and her shoulders dropped, however. "Well, whatever. As long as you cleaned up and the dress is fine, all is good."

"Good, good—"

"I need you to go, though."

"Eh? I was expecting to stay and watch—"

"Nuh-uh!" She pointed her index finger at Sam and swung it like a club. "No way, pal! I have to finish this today, this is my last day of freedom before I gotta study for exams and I have no time nor patience to deal with you flirting with my mannequin."

"I'm standing right here, Courtney."

She stuck out her tongue at Raiden before going back to pushing Sam out of the room. "Shoo, shoo! Begone, Rodrigues!"

"But—We didn't finish talking—Jack—"

"You'll have a ton of time to talk afterwards, alright!? After Raiden's body is useless to me, I'll return it safe and sound so don't you worry!"

"_Still here, Courtney_."

"Goodbye Sam! See you later!"

She managed to push him as far as the door, but Sam held onto the frame and stuck his head back in, looking at Raiden.

"Wait—Jack. You did not answer me—If I got a dress would you—?"

"LATER, SAM."

Courtney slammed the door shut, with Sam pulling back just in time to avoid getting both his fingers and nose broken. There was a moment of silence, then a sigh coming from the other side of the door, and finally, steps slowly fading out.

"Sheesh. He's so pushy."

She was one to talk, Raiden thought, but kept quiet for his own sake. He loved her a lot, he did, but Courtney could be _terrifying_ when pushed too far.

"Well, that's that I guess." She finally turned around, and when she looked at him, her impatience turned into curiosity. "You okay? Your face is red."

"Uh… I—I'm fine—Just." He shook his head, fingers distractedly playing with the fabric of the dress. "Let's get this over with. You don't want me to get too comfortable with this getup, now do you?"

Courtney raised her eyebrows, knowing gaze behind her pink glasses.

"Do you?"

He didn't reply, but his flushing neck was enough of an answer for her.

She'd charge Sam extra if he asked to make a dress for his still-not-boyfriend, that was for sure.


End file.
